


Carried Away

by MirrorMystic



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Dragonflight Verse, F/F, Five Plus One, Fluff, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: Five times Faye figuratively got carried away, and one time it happened literally.(Or: post-canon fluff, flirting, and fantasizing about carrying someone bridal-style.)
Relationships: Anthiese | Celica/Efi | Faye, Efi | Faye/Silque
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Carried Away

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to check out [Dragonflight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14770823/chapters/34160279) for more post-canon fluff, friendship, and flirting (with maybe a little more plot than this fic). I hope you all enjoy the read!
> 
> Follow me on Twitter at @mystic_writes !

~*~  
  
The world has changed. But some things never change.   
  
Six years since the Dragonfall and the unification of Valentia. Six months since Sister Genny's miracle saved a mind from darkness, bringing together the team to continue her crusade.   
  
Six weeks since Faye started coming to terms with her unruly heart. Six weeks, and the task was still a work in progress.   
  
Evening bell in Zofia Castle. While the rest of the castle was gathered in the dining hall, Faye was wandering the castle, restless. It was her inner introvert, she supposed. The Dragonflight getting the royal treatment was novel enough the first time, but now? Faye was glad for some peace and quiet.   
  
Or she would be, if she could find any. Faye's nightly anxiety rather precluded any peace. And as for quiet…  
  
There was a plaintive piano melody gently drifting through the castle, rising above the distant din of the dining hall. Faye followed the song, padding silently down empty stone corridors until at last she found its source.   
  
Silque was sitting at the grand piano in the castle ballroom, playing a masterful, melancholy tune. And as she played, her companion danced, spinning across the ballroom in a beautiful midnight blue gown. She arched her arms over her head, a slender silhouette cast in a golden Zofian sunset through floor-length windows.   
  
Faye crossed the room without a sound. Silque greeted her with a fond smile, leaning into the hand Faye placed on her shoulder.   
  
They watched her dance, a shadow in the fading light, warmth and pride blooming in their chests.   
  
Six months ago, the woman before them could scarcely walk, much less pirouette.   
  
Indeed, six months ago, Rinea wasn't herself at all.   
  
Silque ended her piece with a wistful chord, Rinea dipped into a curtsy, and Faye filled the vast ballroom with the echoes of her applause.   
  
"I didn't know I had an audience," Rinea smiled, bemused. She curled one arm around Faye's waist and pulled her close, while reaching beside her and smoothing a hand against Silque's cheek. Silque cooed and pressed a kiss to her palm.  
  
"You weren't at dinner," Faye said, returning Rinea's squeeze.   
  
"Neither are you," Rinea teased.  
  
"Poor Celica," Silque tittered. "I hope she didn't save our seats."  
  
"Celica never wants for company," Faye muttered. She cleared her throat, pushing the thought away. "May I join you?"  
  
Rinea and Silque exchanged playful glances.   
  
"Of course," Rinea's smile turned impish. "If you ask me properly."  
  
Faye rolled her eyes with a weary fondness. She stood up straight, folded one arm behind her back and clasped her other hand over her heart.  
  
“Lady Rinea,” Faye intoned, bowing deeply at the waist. “May I have this dance?”  
  
Rinea beamed. “I would be honored, Lady Faye.”  
  
Rinea took Faye’s offered hand in hers, guiding Faye’s other hand snugly onto her hip when Faye, bashful, hesitated a moment too long. Rather than the haunting, melancholy ballad she’d played previously, Silque put on a lively waltz. They whirled and spun together, gliding across the ballroom’s polished tile floor, gleaming and gilded in the fading light.  
  
Rinea leapt, and Faye caught her, spinning together while Rinea’s legs curled sensuously around Faye’s waist. Faye lowered her into a dip. Their eyes met, smoky at first, before dissolving into playful giggling-- until Rinea’s face twisted into a grimace and she yelped in pain.  
  
“Rinea?” Faye asked, urgent, gently lowering Rinea to the floor. Silque hurried over, willing her staff into her hands.  
  
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Rinea hissed, forcing a reassuring smile even as she clutched her burning calves. “I just need a moment.”  
  
“I think that might be enough exercise for today,” Silque tutted. “I should get you some ice.”  
  
“I’ll be fine. Really,” Rinea insisted. “I just need to get back to my room.”  
  
“I’ll see if I can fetch a few guards,” Silque offered.  
  
“No, no,” Faye chimed in. “I can take her. It’s just upstairs, right?”  
  
Rinea blinked. “Well, yes, but-- Oh!”  
  
Before she knew it, Faye had hoisted Rinea into her arms, one arm slung under her back, the other beneath her knees. Rinea, after a moment to get over her shock, obligingly coiled her arms around Faye’s neck, warmth blooming across her cheeks.  
  
“Oh, my…” Rinea murmured as they walked. “You really know how to sweep a lady off her feet.”  
  
“Oh, hush,” Faye teased. She glanced beside her, raising an eyebrow at the look on Silque’s face. “...What?”  
  
“Nothing,” Silque smiled, bemused. “I’m just glad to see you two getting along…”  
  
~*~  
  
“Could you two get along for just _one_ evening?”  
  
Tobin and Gray paused, mid-argument, and both turned towards Clair, perched on her pegasus just outside the stables at Zofia Castle.  
  
“What are you talking about? This _is_ us getting along,” Tobin said.  
  
“Yeah, you should see how he gets when I _really_ piss him off,” Gray grinned.  
  
“Ugh. Men,” Clair scoffed. She glanced beside her. “Were they always like this?”  
  
Faye chuckled. “You have no idea…”  
  
“Anyway!” Tobin announced. “As I was saying: Gray, I can’t _believe_ you would go behind my back to ask Faye to join your squad when you knew I wanted her to join my rangers!”  
  
“First of all, Tobe, I didn’t go behind her back. I asked her right in front of you, just now. Second of all: what makes you think Faye wants to be a ranger?”  
  
“She’s more than qualified,” Tobin argued. “She knows how to ride, and she’s a genius with a bow, more than I ever was. She’d be a perfect fit.”  
  
“Yeah, but then she’d have to work for _you_ .”  
  
Tobin pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Gray…”  
  
“Now, let’s hear what I have to offer,” Gray preened. “Think about it, Faye. You know your way around a sword. You know how to sneak through woods, fit in tight spaces. There’s a spot in my squad of commandos with your name on it, Faye. You’ll get a sweet uniform that deflects magic, and best of all, you get to work with me!”  
  
“As if she hasn’t had enough of you already,” Tobin jeered.  
  
“Guys, guys,” Faye cut in, exasperated. “Listen. Your offers are tempting, but I can’t just drop everything and start a new job here in the capital. Celica needs me.”  
  
Tobin and Gray wolf-whistled. Faye thumped them both.  
  
“ _And_ I made a commitment to Sister Genny as part of the Dragonflight,” Faye continued, rolling her eyes.  
  
“How about when you’re done demon-hunting, then?” Tobin asked, hopeful.  
  
“Purging the world of Terrors and saving the minds of those lost to darkness _might_ take a little while,” Faye said dryly.  
  
“Well, Faye, if you ever need a job…” Gray’s elbow dug into her side.  
  
Faye relented. “Alright, tell you what: I’ll think about it.”  
  
“Yes!” Gray whooped and punched the air. “I got her, Tobe!”  
  
“What the hell, Gray? She didn’t say ‘yes’!”  
  
“She didn’t say ‘no’, either! I’ve got a solid ‘maybe’!”  
  
“Well, so do I!”  
  
“Listen, Tobe, buddy, nobody wants to join your club--”  
  
“Enough!” Clair cried in exasperation. She blew out a sigh. “Gray. Tobin. Why don’t you go to the dining hall and save our seats? I thought I just heard evening bell.”  
  
Gray shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything.”  
  
“Well, _listen harder_ ,” Clair growled.  
  
Tobin backed off, raising his hands and mouthing a wary “o-kay”, while Gray just gave them an easygoing wave and sauntered back to the castle with him. Clair rubbed her temples, willing away the impending migraine, while Faye reached up and gave her a pat on the knee in sympathy.  
  
“Sorry,” Faye said, sheepish. “They mean well, but they can be such…”  
  
“Men? I’m aware,” Clair shook her head. “Though, to be honest, I’m fair certain some of that peacocking is because of you.”  
  
Faye blinked. “Me?”  
  
“They missed you,” Clair shrugged. Then, less flippantly, “...I missed you.”  
  
Faye glanced away, embarrassed. “R-Really?”  
  
“It’s been years since we fought in the Deliverance, but I’m still glad for your company,” Clair said. “Surrounded by chest-thumping army men? If not for you, Silque, and Mathilda, I’d have surely gone mad.”  
  
Faye chuckled. “Well. I’m glad I could help.”  
  
“I know you had your reasons for not coming to the capital after the war,” Clair continued, somber. “But I hope you realize how much you meant to Gray, and Tobin. And to Alm. They never intended to leave you behind.”  
  
Faye huffed out a sigh. “...I know. But I had to look after Kliff. And my Nana.”  
  
“How are they?” Clair asked.  
  
“Kliff’s studying under Luthier, up north,” Faye said. Her expression darkened. “Nana… passed away. Last year.”  
  
“Oh, Faye…” Clair murmured.  
  
“Is it terrible to say that part of me was relieved? No more stress. No more struggle,” Faye muttered. She added, dryly, “And now, if someone _were_ to offer me a job in the capital, I’d have nothing keeping me in Ram.”  
  
“I may well make you an offer, myself,” Clair mused. “You’d make a fine pegasus knight.”  
  
Faye looked up. “What? How do you figure?”  
  
“Well, you already know how to ride, don’t you?”  
  
“I don’t know how to _fly_ ,” Faye protested. “And I don’t know the lance…”  
  
“You have sharp eyes. An archer’s eyes,” Clair said. “That’s what I need in a scout.”  
  
Faye smiled, taken aback. “Wow, Clair. I… don’t know what to say.”  
  
“Just something to consider,” Clair smiled. She dismounted her pegasus and landed with a wince, bracing herself on the saddle. Faye reached out to steady her.  
  
“...Frankly, we’re a bit understaffed,” Clair hissed. “It takes a lot of skill, and precious few make the cut. Myself, and the few riders I do have, are getting run ragged. I certainly wouldn’t mind another set of hands.”  
  
“Are you alright?” Faye wondered.  
  
“I will be,” Clair groaned, massaging her aching thighs. “But if you thought riding horseback was murder on your legs, just wait until you ride a pegasus…”  
  
Clair took a shaky step and half-tripped into Faye’s arms, hissing in pain.  
  
“Please, let me help you,” Faye insisted.  
  
“I appreciate the offer, dear, but what are you going to do? Carry me?”  
  
A pause. Faye cleared her throat.  
  
“...May I?”  
  
When Faye stepped into the dining hall, Clair bundled in her arms like a bride-to-be, Tobin and Gray took a moment to gape before the wolf-whistling started all over again. Faye rolled her eyes and gently set Clair down into the bench seat the boys had saved for her. Clair took a napkin, primly folded it in her lap, and thumped both Gray and Tobin on the head.  
  
~*~  
  
“Closer, closer, and… stop. Sit down. Take off your blindfold."  
  
Silque chuckled, reaching up and untying the length of ribbon around her eyes.  
  
“Honestly, Faye, I’m not sure what’s gotten into you…”  
  
Silque pulled the ribbon away, taking in her surroundings. She looked up, blinking.  
  
“...Celica?”  
  
Celica stood, her arms folded across her chest. Silque was in a chair in the corner of the infirmary at Castle Zofia, Celica pacing before her, Faye at her side. Celica brushed against Faye as she paced, mischief glinting in her eyes.  
  
“Silque, this is an intervention,” Celica announced. “Faye told me about your stunt last night.”  
  
Silque furrowed her brows, puzzled. “...What stunt?”  
  
“You weren’t at dinner,” Faye explained. “And when I went looking for you, you hadn’t snuck off to the ballroom with Rinea, like I thought. You were in here. Cleaning.”  
  
Silque blinked. “...I’m serving the castle in my capacity as a cleric. Keeping the infirmary clean--”  
  
“Isn’t your job,” Celica said.  
  
“I need to be ready to receive patients at a moment’s notice,” Silque argued.  
  
“You need to take care of yourself before you can take care of others, Silque,” Celica said. She glanced beside her, meeting Faye’s eyes with a playful smirk. “So Faye and I decided: if you won’t take care of yourself, then _we_ will.”  
  
Silque raised an eyebrow. “What exactly will that entail?”  
  
“Faye here has prepared a lovely dinner for you,” Celica said, while Faye grinned, hefting a picnic basket. “And while you two unwind, _I’ll_ take care of the rest.”  
  
Celica rolled up her sleeves, flashed the duo a thumbs up, and then, to Silque’s horror, pulled out a mop.  
  
“Celica!” Silque squealed, mortified. Faye caught her by the shoulder and firmly urged her back into her seat.  
  
“Sit down,” Faye insisted. “Let us take care of you.”  
  
The warmth in Faye’s eyes made Silque’s protests die in her throat. She relented, settling in for dinner with Faye while trying her level best not to wince at the sound of Celica, a queen, mopping floors and changing sheets.  
  
The tension and urge to be constantly working slowly slipped from Silque’s shoulders. The night ambled by at a languid pace, the trio talking about everything and nothing at all. At last, with the infirmary spotless, Celica joined Faye and Silque for dessert and a glass of wine.  
  
“Thanks for saving me a glass,” Celica smiled.  
  
“Or three,” Silque said dryly.  
  
“Don’t forget the pie,” Faye chuckled.  
  
They clinked their glasses together and drank, blowing out satisfied sighs. Silque sat back, and Faye and Celica leaned into her, close enough their knees were touching.  
  
“...You two are ridiculous, you realize?” Silque said, smiling fondly.  
  
“You deserve a break,” Faye said. “Really, you deserve a lot more than that.”  
  
“You’re always working so hard,” Celica cooed. “Do you know what Genny told me, once? ‘For a goddess of pleasure, Mila’s clerics sure are a bunch of workaholics’.”  
  
“Yourself included,” Silque chided. Celica swatted at her, playful.  
  
“You should let us spoil you more often,” Faye insisted.  
  
Silque pouted, stubborn. “I see no harm in a bit of discipline--”  
  
“Oh, don’t give me that, Silque,” Faye teased. “There’s gotta be _something_ you want. A reward, for all your hard work…?”  
  
“I can think of a few things,” Celica muttered. Faye jabbed a finger into her side and made Celica choke on her wine, giggling like a schoolgirl.  
  
“I want for nothing,” Silque said gently. “I have you.”  
  
“Aww!” Celica cooed.  
  
“I’m not buying it,” Faye said. “Come on, Silque. Think.”  
  
“I’m telling you, there’s not--” Silque paused, furrowing her brows. “...Hm. There might be something…”  
  
Hours later, Faye emerged in Silque’s room, Silque bundled in her arms like a bride, a tipsy Celica at her heels. Faye tenderly laid Silque down on her bed, while Silque clapped her hands, filled with childish glee.  
  
“Now who’s ridiculous?” Faye teased, while Silque giggled beneath her.  
  
“Thank you for indulging me, Faye,” Silque said sweetly.  
  
“You earned it,” Faye sighed, pressing a kiss to Silque’s forehead.  
  
“When do I get a turn?” Celica grinned.  
  
Faye rolled her eyes. “Alright, don’t get any ideas…”  
  
~*~  
  
“Alright, whose idea was this?”  
  
Boey scowled. “Mae, you don’t have to--”  
  
“No, no, no! I want to hear you say it!”  
  
Boey heaved a long-suffering sigh.  
  
“...It was mine,” he admitted.  
  
“That’s right!” Mae crowed, her hands on her hips. “There we were, on the beach, separated from the rest of the group. We had taken a detour to wipe out a band of Terrors--”  
  
“I know, Mae! This was just ten minutes ago!”  
  
“ _Let me recap!_ ” Mae insisted. “So. There we were on the beach. Genny’s group was already up the hill. I said, ‘gee, it’s a shame we don’t have Sonya with us. Her wind magic could just fly us up that cliff.’ Faye said, ‘uhhh, I don’t know guys, why don’t we just walk’--”  
  
“That’s a terrible impression of me,” Faye said flatly.  
  
“--and then what did you say, Boey?”  
  
Boey pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
“...I said, ‘I can make us a shortcut’.”  
  
“Yup! You magicked up a wall of vines so we could climb up the cliff, and now look where that got you.”  
  
“Mae, do you have to berate him when he’s already dealing with a sprained ankle?” Faye wondered.  
  
Mae dug an elbow into Boey’s side. “Just making sure he knows exactly whose fault it was.”  
  
“Thank you, Mae,” Boey drawled. “You’ve been lovely as always.”  
  
“Well, we still need to catch up to Genny, so we can’t just sit around,” Faye said. “Mae, can’t you heal him?”  
  
Mae’s smug smile faded. She coughed. “Er. Well. I, uh, I _could_ , but I’m a lot better at patching up, you know. Flesh wounds.”  
  
Faye rolled her eyes. “Boey?”  
  
Boey shook his head. “I’m more practiced at healing internal injuries than Mae is, but healing power wants to be expressed outwardly, not folded back into its conduit. There are some who’ve attempted to use healing power on themselves, to extend their lifespans. It typically ends… poorly.”  
  
Faye sighed. “Alright. Guess I’ll carry you.”  
  
“Wait, what? Really?”  
  
Boey’s astonishment melted away as Faye scooped him into her arms. They started making their way up the beach, Boey like a babe in arms, Mae snickering all the while.  
  
“Wow, Bo,” Mae teased. “It’s just like that time a necrodragon’s roar scared you so bad you jumped into my arms.”  
  
“That was _one_ time,” Boey huffed.  
  
“Yeah, and now you’re a professional demon hunter,” Mae grinned. “You’re all grown up.”  
  
“Sorry, guys. I have to take a break,” Faye grunted. She set Boey down on the grass, shaking the ache from her arms.  
  
“Forgive me, Faye,” Boey said, sheepish. “I must be a bit heavier than you were expecting.”  
  
“It’s all muscle, baby,” Mae grinned.  
  
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Faye insisted. “I just need a minute.”  
  
“The sprain isn’t too severe,” Boey said. “If I wrap it up tight enough and lean on my staff, I’m sure I can limp my way back to camp easy enough.”  
  
“Aww, what’s the matter, Boey?” Mae teased. “Too embarrassed to get carried around in Faye’s big, strong arms?”  
  
“First of all, Mae, you, of all people, should know I have no problem with strong women,” Boey said dryly. “Second of all, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you almost sound jealous.”  
  
“What! Jealous? Pfft. Don’t be stupid,” Mae blustered.  
  
Boey raised a dubious eyebrow. Faye simply opened her arms in invitation.  
  
Later, as they were trudging up the hill back to camp, things were suddenly a lot quieter than they were before.  
  
“You should be proud,” Boey chuckled, clapping a hand on Faye’s shoulder. “It takes a lot to leave Mae at a loss for words.”  
  
Mae looked up from where she was bundled in Faye’s arms. Their eyes met for a smoky moment before they snatched their gazes away. Mae cleared her throat, her cheeks turning as rosy as her hair.  
  
“L-Let’s just… get back to Genny, alright…?”  
  
~*~  
  
“Genny! Sister Genny!”  
  
Faye called out, wandering the hills beyond Zofia Castle. There was something strangely nostalgic about the local greenery-- so much like the foothills on Novis Island where the Dragonflight had spent quite an eventful week. And, just like on Novis, the hills were simply covered in languid, grazing sheep.  
  
Sheep milled about Faye, oblivious to her search, like a shifting hedge maze made of wool. Eventually, she found her quarry-- Sister Genny, in her pink habit, sitting on a rock and scribbling away in her diary.  
  
“Faye!” Genny called, smiling like the sun. “You’re just who I wanted to see.”  
  
“Celica said you urgently needed to speak to me,” Faye said. “Is something wrong?”  
  
“Oh! Nothing’s wrong. It’s no emergency. Just a question, really. Something requiring your, ah… expertise.”  
  
Faye made a face. “Um. Okay. Well, I’d be happy to help.”  
  
Genny giggled, sheepish. “...It might be a little embarrassing, though.”  
  
Faye rolled her eyes. “I don’t know if I like where this is going.”  
  
“Oh, don’t worry! You can trust me,” Genny reassured. “I’m a cleric! Would I ever do you wrong?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Faye said dryly. “Celica’s a cleric, too, and she basically made Silque take a night off at swordpoint.”  
  
“She deserves it. Silque works too hard! I’m always telling her that!”  
  
Faye rolled her eyes, more fondly this time. “What was your question, Sister?”  
  
“Alright. Um.” Genny cleared her throat. “Would you… carry me?”  
  
Faye blinked. “What.”  
  
“It’s for a book!” Genny announced, holding up her diary. A nearby sheep leaned in to investigate, before Genny gently shooed it away with a bop from her staff. “I know I shouldn’t listen to gossip, but I may have heard some things…”  
  
“I can’t believe this is how I get my reputation,” Faye grumbled.  
  
“Please, Faye?” Genny pleaded.  
  
It’d been six years since the war, and Genny was a grown woman. Still, there was a sweetness in her eyes, an innocence, that made it so Faye could never have said no.  
  
Faye sighed. “Come here.”  
  
Faye scooped Genny up, one arm around her shoulders, the other beneath her knees. Genny gasped in wonder, obligingly coiling her arms around Faye’s neck and gazing into her eyes like any romance novel heroine worth her ink.  
  
“Wow,” Genny murmured, in awe. “You’re so strong, Faye!”  
  
“You’re also tiny,” Faye said dryly. “You’re probably, like, ninety pounds soaking wet.”  
  
“Oh, this is so much more romantic than I imagined!” Genny squealed. “I need to take notes!”  
  
Genny pulled out her diary and her magicked quill, scribbling furiously. She wobbled precariously in Faye’s arms.  
  
“Uh, Genny?” Faye called. “Maybe you should hold onto my neck-- oh!”  
  
An inquisitive sheep knocked into Faye from behind and threw her off balance. She and Genny tumbled into the grass with a pair of undignified squawks.  
  
“Are you alright?!” Faye cried.  
  
“I’m fine, I’m fine…” Genny giggled madly, clutching her diary to her chest. “Oh, Faye. Thank you for indulging such a silly little request. I hope I didn’t bother you at all.”  
  
“No, of course not,” Faye shrugged. She smiled. “It was kinda nice.”  
  
“Good,” Genny beamed. “The last thing I’d ever want to do is make you uncomfortable.”  
  
~*~  
  
“Well,” Faye said stiffly. “This is uncomfortable.”  
  
“Nonsense,” Clair cooed, lacing up the back of Faye’s bodice. “You look lovely.”  
  
“I don’t _feel_ lovely,” Faye muttered. Clair patted her on the arm.  
  
“Give it time,” Clair smiled gently. “You’ll feel better once you’re out on the floor.”  
  
And she did, at least at first. If this was just a small, private party, then maybe Faye could have handled all the attention. But the ballroom at Zofia Castle was positively packed with nobles she’d never met. She’d made a beeline for Gray and Tobin once she’d spotted them, but they’d disappeared back into the crowd shortly after nodding their approval towards Faye’s deep wine-red dress. Even Rinea seemed to have an easier time socializing than Faye was-- she’d been cornered by clerics, doubtlessly pressing her for details on the years she’d spent bewitched. It was a touchy subject, but with Silque at her side, Rinea managed to stand her ground.  
  
Faye wished she could say the same. Instead, she found herself hovering near the refreshments table, with the similarly party-shy Sister Genny.  
  
“I like your dress,” Genny smiled. “It’s like something Mother would wear.”  
  
Faye glanced across the ballroom. Lady Sonya was speaking to a crowd of admirers, wearing a similar dress to Faye’s, albeit in a deeper, sultry crimson and an even deeper neckline.  
  
“Th-Thank you…?” Faye said, flustered.  
  
“Sorry!” Genny squeaked. “It was a compliment, I swear…”  
  
Faye just laughed and shook her head. Beside her, Genny suddenly straightened up, bowing her head.  
  
“...Your Majesty,” Genny intoned.  
  
“Lady Exalt,” Alm said, dipping his head. He turned, greeting Faye with a smile and a nod. “Lady Faye.”  
  
Faye scoffed. “I’m no lady.”  
  
“You are in that dress,” Alm teased.  
  
Faye grinned and punched him in the arm. Alm laughed, raising his hands in surrender.  
  
“Alright, alright,” Alm said, laughing. “How are you enjoying the party so far?”  
  
“It’s pretty… crowded,” Faye admitted.  
  
“Sorry,” Alm said, sheepish. “Noble families, you know? If you invite one, you have to invite them all…”  
  
“I get it,” Faye shrugged. “And it’s nice enough. It’d just be nicer if I had more time with the people I actually know here.”  
  
“Well,” Alm began, “that can certainly be arranged…”  
  
Alm’s smile grew impish. Faye swatted at him, playful.  
  
“What? What’s with that look?”  
  
“Nothing, nothing,” Alm grinned. He patted Faye on the arm. “Enjoy the party.”  
  
Faye watched, intrigued, as Alm slipped back into the crowd to do his rounds. She didn’t think too much of it-- at least, until later that night, when Alm stood on a raised dais in his magnificent midnight-blue swallowtail coat, clapped his gloved hands together, and announced that it was time to dance.  
  
Imagine the look on Faye’s face, then, when the crowd parted like the sea around a stone, and Celica, Queen of Zofia, stood before her, in a gleaming golden gown like a curtain of pure sunlight.  
  
Celica coiled one arm behind her back and bowed deeply at the waist, a hand over her heart.  
  
“Lady Faye,” she said, smiling. “May I have this dance?”  
  
Faye blinked, stunned. All the eyes in the ballroom were on her. She picked up her skirts and dipped into a curtsy.  
  
“I would be honored,” Faye murmured, her cheeks pink. “Your Majesty.”  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Faye saw Alm trading places with the pianist at the grand piano. He cracked his knuckles, flashed Faye a wink, and began to play.  
  
Faye took Celica’s hand and let her pull her into a waltz, the ballroom spinning around them, other pairs of nobles keeping a respectful distance. They whirled and spun across the tiles, shining by the light of chandeliers, wearing each other’s colors-- Faye in a deep, dusky red, Celica in magnificent, sunny gold.  
  
“You look amazing,” Celica murmured into Faye’s shoulder, her hand snugly on Faye’s hip.  
  
“Thank you,” Faye said, fighting a blush. “Actually, thank Clair.”  
  
“You waltz well,” Celica mused.  
  
“Rinea taught me a few things,” Faye muttered. “Listen, Celica. I, um… I know what people say about me. I don’t belong here. I’m no noblewoman. I’m just a rough-and-tumble country girl…”  
  
“I’d say that’s part of your charm,” Celica reassured.  
  
“Just saying,” Faye shrugged, sheepish. “Is that who you want on your arm when the whole castle’s watching?”  
  
“They can deal with it. I don’t give a damn what they think. I’m their Queen.”  
  
Celica spun Faye into a dip. Faye gasped, breathless, her leg coiled around Celica’s waist, gazing up into Celica’s fiery eyes.  
  
“And I’m yours,” Celica winked.  
  
Faye’s heart leapt in her chest. As the song faded and the ballroom filled with polite applause, Celica pulled Faye up into her arms and purred into her ear.  
  
 _“I told you I would get my turn.”_  
  
Oh, that did it. Faye melted into Celica’s embrace, throwing her arms around her neck. Celica darted down and looped an arm under Faye’s knees, quite literally sweeping her off her feet. Faye spun in Celica’s arms, breathless with adoration. To her amusement, she saw Celica flash a wink to Alm at his piano bench, and Sister Genny in the crowd, clutching her heart and then frantically searching for her diary.  
  
“Sister Silque,” Celica intoned, in her regal, commanding voice.  
  
Silque materialized from the crowd, in her own modest frost-blue gown, Rinea silently in her shadow. She dipped into a curtsy. “Yes, Your Majesty?”  
  
“Lady Faye is feeling unwell,” Celica smirked. “I should like to take her to her chambers.”  
  
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Silque said with a demure smile. “You’ll be happy to find I’ve been keeping it clean and ready for you…”  
  
Faye was burning with embarrassment. She buried her face in Celica’s neck.  
  
They passed by Boey and Mae, in forest-green and bubblegum-pink. Boey was knowingly shaking his head.  
  
“Speechless,” he tutted, smiling. “Poor girl…”  
  
“She never stood a chance,” Mae grinned.  
  
Celica carried Faye past a swooning Clair, along with Gray and Tobin, both of them grinning like schoolboys. Faye saw the look on Gray’s face and stabbed a finger towards him.  
  
“Gray, if you start whistling, I swear to Mila--”  
  
“I wasn’t gonna say anything!” Gray laughed.  
  
As they passed by, Gray technically kept his promise. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he started to clap. Slowly at first, to the confusion of the surrounding nobles. But then Tobin joined him, and Clair, and Alm, and the Dragonflight, and soon an entire ballroom of Zofian high society was whooping and cheering at the duo with as much verve and vigor as if they’d just gotten married.  
  
Faye clapped her hands over her face in exasperation, cheers echoing down the halls.  
  
“I’m going to kill him,” she hissed, mortified.  
  
“In the morning,” Celica teased. “Kill him in the morning.”  
  
Faye wailed, clapping her hands over her face, her cheeks burning and growing as red as her dress. Celica merely smiled, hefted Faye in her arms, and carried her down the hall to bed.  
  
~*~


End file.
